


Notes on Dating a Bounty Hunter

by ThreeWhiskeyLunch



Series: Madness Because The Reasons Don't Make Sense [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Destroy Ending, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Garrus shreds the sheets, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Merc Love, Oral Sex, Playing with Guns, Porn Watching, Rare Pairings, Shower Sex, Smut, Vaksani, Xenophilia, Zaeed loses his Blasto virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3680286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/pseuds/ThreeWhiskeyLunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month after James Vega's N7 graduation party, Garrus and Zaeed have a movie night. Maybe it's a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Subject secretive in nature, yet willing to reveal certain details when pressed

It takes a few false starts. A combination of things that make it difficult to figure out time schedules and what planet they'll both be close to. It doesn't help that the relays are sometimes dodgy about working all the time. In the end, Zaeed finally owns up to living on Illium and Garrus wonders in a flash of irritation why he hadn’t just said so in the first place because that makes things so much easier. But then, thinking about the man and his desire for privacy, he supposes he can't really blame him. He makes a promise to keep his lair a secret and they settle on a day. Garrus also promises to bring several Blasto movies, in anticipation of deflowering Zaeed of his Blasto virginity. He can hear the eye roll half a galaxy away.  
  
Zaeed lives in a perfectly respectable apartment building in a perfectly respectable neighborhood on the beachfront of a large lake that runs along one edge of Nos Ostra. A soft breeze tinged with the fresh smell of the water brushes his face and he raises his nose to it, breathing in deeply. He’s spent so much time on his ship lately, or in stinking back alleys, crowded space ports or offices with long-winded politicians, he’s forgotten what it feels like to have a bit of wind to sniff at. He takes a moment to scan the horizon out over the water: a few vessels bob on the surface, people of several species litter the beach. It calms him, makes him want to linger. He can see why Zaeed would like it here.  
  
There’s a security panel at the front door and he types in the code that Zaeed had given him to get in, only having to retry twice because his fingers are shaking with nervous energy. He punches in one of the top floors on the elevator and barely has time to notice when the ride has come to a halt already. Citadel engineers could learn a thing or two from whomever designed this elevator. He chimes Zaeed’s doorbell and the door snicks open quietly a moment later, but no one is there to let him in. He pushes at the door. “Zaeed?”  
  
“Shower! Running late.”  
  
He enters and pushes the door closed behind him, looks around the light and airy flat from his vantage point at the door. It's surprisingly homey. Not overly so, not like a decorator has been there, but there's comfortable-looking furniture and a definite lack of bachelor pad detritus like take away boxes and beer bottles that he had half expected. He scans over the space and sees that the entire apartment seems to be one big room, divided in the middle with a small kitchen and presumably the bathroom on the bedroom side. He takes a step and looks around, sees in one corner four neatly stacked storage crates, what appears to be a bookshelf with actual books on it, a thick wooden board that hangs on the wall with several of Zaeed’s knives stuck in it, and the skeleton head of some creature he can't identify mounted on the wall.  
  
Jessie is there too, alone on a shelf. He's always been curious about her. His fingers itch to pick her up and have a look, maybe try to figure out why she stopped firing. He has to clasp his hands behind his back to keep from touching.  
  
"Won't be long," Zaeed calls from the other room.  
  
"Take your time. There's no rush." He makes his way over to the bookshelf, curious as to what books-and yes, they are paper books-Zaeed might have collected. He roams over the titles and notices a lot of history, some biography. Even one of the rare hardbacks Shepard recently wrote about Anderson. There are also quite a few well-worn paperbacks by someone named L'Amour, all with pictures of men riding four-legged creatures and wearing strange hats.  
  
There's one book that stands out, though. A dark green cover with intricate gold lettering in what Garrus sees is Drell. He recognizes it immediately. It looks just like Thane's prayer book, and when he pulls it out he notices that it has the same folded bend in the bottom corner of the cover that Thane's had had. And Thane's name is written on the inside.  
  
Why does Zaeed Massani have Thane Krios' prayer book?  
  
His intention is to ask him. But when he rounds the corner, book held up in one hand, what he sees freezes his body, his brain, his memory of everything. Zaeed is standing with his back to him at his wardrobe, pulling up a pair of jeans over his black boxer-covered behind with nothing else on but his scars and tattoos. Zaeed's elbows are pointed out as he presumably fastens his fly, and Garrus can see the subtle shift of muscle at his shoulders as he moves. His eyes trace down the spine that points to temptation. Just before Zaeed pulls the jeans all the way up, he has an enticing glimpse of two small dimples over each cheek. He really wants another look at those dimples.  
  
He's entranced.  
  
"Need something, Garrus?"  
  
He realizes Zaeed has spoken to him, that he's turning to look over his shoulder. He tries to remember what he was going to ask, comes up with nothing. "What, uh-" he gropes for words, phrases, anything to string together to form some sort of cohesive sentence. He gets nothing. Zaeed notices the book he's holding out though and a scowl forms on his face, eyebrows drawing together. He looks at the book and back at Zaeed. It comes back then.  
  
“Thane’s prayer book? Why do you have it?”  
  
The man turns, brow down in annoyance. He walks quietly up to Garrus, reaches out and takes the book. He thumbs the pages quickly, flips it open to where he now sees is a white folded page-a written note placed inside-checking to be sure the note is still there. He watches Zaeed walk to the bookshelf to replace the book with gentle fingers.  
  
“Zaeed?-”  
  
“Thane and I were...close.”  
  
“Yeah, I know you were friends.” He’d seen them down in the docking bay on the Normandy sparring on the mats, or going through spare rifle parts to mod their guns, or in the mess hall shooting the shit with Jack or Kasumi. They were often together. It made sense that they’d be friends. They were both guns for hire, used to working on their own, they were both excellent snipers, although Zaeed tended to like more flash-bang while Thane had preferred to do his work silently and quickly from the shadows.  
  
The grunt of displeasure from Zaeed tells him he missed something though. “Jesus, Garrus. You’re goddamn thick. You’re gonna make me spell it out?” He paces back to his wardrobe, sits on the bed to yank socks on.  
  
Garrus stares at him. “What do you mean? You were-”  
  
“More than friends. Less than lovers.”  
  
Oh. “But. So, but-”  
  
The man stands in front of him, arms crossed over bare skin. “We’d hang out together. We’d hit the mats together. Sometimes when we’d come back from missions and were jacked up on adrenaline, we’d fuck each other’s brains out to relieve some stress. None of anyone else’s goddamn business.”  
  
Garrus manages to stare at him. “I-there wasn’t any-neither of you ever-”  
  
“What? Drooled all over each other? Held hands walking down the hall? I wasn’t in love with him, and he certainly wasn’t with me. It was convenience. Any other time, any other place, it wouldn’t have happened. And I’m not sorry it did. I respected him as a friend. He made some dark days a bit more bearable.”  
  
Garrus feels like a fool. It’s not the first time Zaeed has pointed out his inability to see things that went on right under his nose without him noticing. “Spirits. I’m an idiot.”  
  
Zaeed’s face lightens a bit, then a smirk curls up one corner of his mouth. “No argument there.”  
  
He brushes the cheap shot aside. “So, when Shepard found out you were on the Citadel-”  
  
“I had more than one reason to be there. Kolyat had messaged me a couple days before. One of the reasons I agreed to stupidly tag along with that bunch of mercs from Omega. He said Thane had requested to see me if possible. Emphasis on 'as soon as'.”  
  
He looks down, realizes he’s been wringing his fingers together. Odd. He never does that. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “Were you there when he-” he doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have the right to ask. “No. Don’t answer that. You don’t have to tell me.”  
  
“S’alright." His voice softens, turns husky. "No. I wasn't. He sent me away. Didn't want-" he stops. As if the words are stuck in his throat. Garrus can see him swallow hard several times. He sighs "Fucking bloody awful way to go. But I talked with him a little before he-" He can't seem to finish the thought.  
  
“I’m sorry. He was-” He can’t find the right words. So much could be said about Thane, and yet he knew so very little about him. He can only wonder how much more Zaeed knew.  
  
“Yeah. He was.” He sighs, runs his fingers over his hair, as if smoothing away the emotions the turn of conversation had taken. “Kolyat gave me the prayer book. Said his dad wanted me to have it.” Garrus gets the feeling there’s more to it than that. But he doesn’t push. The man has a right to his secrets.  
  
“Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”  
  
He laughs. “Well, you asked. Not my fault you’re the worst goddamn detective cop Spectre type person out there. Batman, my ass.” With that he returns to his wardrobe, searching through a drawer. "Roger Rabbit more like."  
  
"Who's that?"  
  
"Never mind."  
  
"Oh, no. You're not getting off that easily. That sounded like an insult."  
  
"Someday I'll show you how much of one it was."  
  
Garrus watches him as he searches through a drawer, frame slightly bent, the curve of his behind mere meters away. He's had some time to think things over since the party at Vega's. And the more he's been thinking, the more he likes the idea of pursuing something with Zaeed. So much so that a couple times he ended up taking himself in hand, with the memory of the man's kiss and his fingers lightly dusting the tender spot just under his fringe and the knowledge that he had felt Zaeed hard against him. He'd begun to feel a burn in his gizzard that made him wonder about where his heart and his head were at.  
  
All thoughts of Thane and his prayer book and whoever Roger Rabbit is are pushed aside as interesting but not important at the moment. Zaeed straightens and begins to pull on a black t-shirt.  
  
There are other things that are more important, he decides. Those dimples for a start.  
  
He doesn't remember moving. He's behind Zaeed the next time he blinks, nearly looming over him even though he's not much taller than the man. Not touching, but just enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His hair is damp, a few beads of moisture linger on his shoulders. Beads that Garrus so desperately wants to lick away. He's aware that he's holding his breath and he inhales deeply the fresh, soapy smell, and underneath that the scent that is only Zaeed and no other.  
  
“Garrus? What the hell?” Zaeed stands frozen, arms halfway into the shirt. He could move away easily if he wants, but he stays put and watches Garrus from over his shoulder.  
  
“Um. So. Yeah. Can’t really explain this.”  
  
“You wanna back off?”  
  
“No. Not really. I mean, unless you’re telling me.”  
  
“If I were telling you, you’d goddamn know.”  
  
He really wants to touch. His fingers itch with the urge. He especially has his eye on a small brown mole on the man’s shoulder. “Well, good. Because I really need to do this.” And with that he presses the pad of his finger against the mark and gives it a small caress. "I don't know what it is. But you in those damn pants. It just...does something to me." As he speaks he moves his finger to another spot, sliding along the skin in between them, through a water droplet to create a small, glistening path in its wake. He eyes another spot and moves his finger to it, continues across Zaeed's shoulders until he's traced a curving line from one side to the other.  
  
Zaeed remains quiet and motionless, barely breathing at the touch. Garrus' visor tells him his heart rate is elevated and climbing, which he takes as a good sign. So when he comes to the end of his exploration, he only hesitates slightly before laying his hand fully on his shoulder and then moving it slowly down his arm, over the tattoos that swirl in enticing patterns around it to rest at the gentle bend of his elbow, just at the edge of fabric.  
  
He's so fully concentrating on the man in front of him that he jumps and his heart skips a beat when Zaeed's omnitool beeps. Zaeed sighs and checks it, enters something quickly. "That's the door downstairs. Kinda need to finish dressing."  
  
It's difficult to move away, but he lets his fingers drop and takes a few steps back with a sigh. "I suppose." He has another look down at Zaeed's ass. "You wouldn't want to change out if those I'm guessing."  
  
Zaeed snorts again as he pulls the shirt over his head. "Why?"  
  
"Well, it's just...they're kind of distracting."  
  
He turns then and leers, a single eyebrow twitching "In that case. No."  
  
Garrus' heart does a little backward flip. "So it's going to be like that, is it?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"You're gonna just make me lust after you all night."  
  
"Yup." He pats Garrus on a mandible. "Got a back pocket, all for you."  
  
Garrus' knees almost give out. "Spirits." The doorbell chimes and he follows Zaeed out to the living room. "I might be in over my head," he mutters.  
  
Zaeed just smirks and answers the door, closes it moments later with two bags in his hand. "Hungry?"  
  
He takes a good long look at Zaeed, standing there in those jeans that fit just right, black t-shirt showing off a bit of muscle underneath. He looks good. Relaxed like Garrus has never seen him before. Sexy and rough like he's never appreciated him before. It's a good look for him. He looks good enough to eat. Is he hungry? Yes, he's hungry.  
  
"Yeah," Garrus says. "I'm starving."


	2. Subject seems to enjoy being 'gotten' (and kinda sorta doesn't)

They end up sitting on the sofa eating off the coffee table. Zaeed had gotten some sort of noodle thing for himself, and a fairly decent protein-packed dextro meal for Garrus. He puts the first Blasto movie onto the vid screen while Zaeed shakes an excessive amount of some sort of red sauce all over his plate of noodles. Curious, Garrus picks up the bottle, takes a whiff and gets a sharp sting up his nose. He sets it down quickly, noticing that Zaeed has been watching him. “I've seen you use that stuff before. What is it?”  
  
Zaeed shugs, settles back on the sofa with his stockinged feet up on the low table, his plate in his hands. “Spices things up. Too many years smoking, dulled my taste buds.” He grins, a little bit wicked, “But I’ve always liked things a little spicy.”  
  
It takes a few seconds for the double entendre to occur to Garrus, and by then the movie has started and he realizes the moment to flirt back has passed, but he still mutters, “Well, that much is obvious,” before he settles back on the sofa as well. He hears Zaeed snort a laugh, but keeps his eyes front.  
  
They watch in silence for a while. Garrus' mind is half on the-pretty bad, he has to admit-movie and half on the man next to him. Zaeed is surprisingly quiet. He’d figured for sure he’d be a movie talker, commenting on the action or asking questions or something. Instead he’s just sitting and watching. But then Garrus takes a look at him from the corner of his eye and sees him roll his eyes at some particularly bad dialog (“Enkindle this!”) and he wonders if maybe Zaeed is being polite. Because he thinks Garrus likes this. Which is a very strange thought, be he decides to test it.  
  
“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen this,” Garrus says. “Kinda forgot how bad it is.”  
  
Zaeed lets out a breath like he’s been holding it in for the last half hour. “Fucking hell, Garrus. Bad doesn’t even begin to describe it.”  
  
“We don’t have to watch it.”  
  
“No, it’s okay. Leave it. You want a drink? Picked up some dextro beer.”  
  
“Yeah, sure.” Zaeed takes their empty dishes back to the small kitchen.  
  
Garrus turns the sound down on the movie. “So can I ask you something?”  
  
Zaeed’s head is buried in his fridge. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
“First of all, how the hell did you get your hands on a copy of Shepard’s book? And second, why Nos Ostra?”  
  
The man returns with beers for both, settles back on the sofa. He shrugs, grinning. “That’s two somethings, for the record.” He takes a sip from his bottle. “I did Shep a favor. Wanted to pay me and I told him to fuck off. So he sent me the book. It’s not bad, have you read it?”  
  
He nods. “On a datapad. Like everyone else in the galaxy. Barring, what five hundred people? I heard the hard print number was small.” He wonders what sort of favor Zaeed had done for Shepard that caused him to send a book worth several thousand credits.  
  
“Something like that. As for picking here, good of a place as any. There’s work. And it’s not goddamn Omega. Got so sick of Omega, couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. That whole rock needs to be blown to bits.” Garrus hears the venom in his words, knows how he feels. He’s always felt conflicted about Shepard helping Aria get Omega back. On the one hand, she did bring some order to the place. On the other, it was a piss-poor imitation of the sort of order that actually made sure the lowest of the low still had food and shelter.  
  
He nods. “Yeah, I know. I tried to make it better. It was like taking water from one spot in an ocean and pouring it back in three meters away. Didn’t make much difference except to change out the leadership in the gangs.”  
  
Zaeed gives him a long look. “Don’t sell yourself short. Archangel gave people something they hadn’t had in a long time: the idea that it didn't have to be the way it was. I heard it, even before joining up with Shepard. There were rumblings all over about you.” He takes a long drink of his beer. “Kinda had to admire someone who could piss off all those gangs,” he says quietly. “Takes more than just a quad.”  
  
Garrus hides his embarrassment behind his beer bottle, trills quietly to himself. “You’re just jealous.”  
  
That earns him a big grin. “You don’t even fucking know.”  
  
Garrus turns back to the movie, trying to not feel too pleased with himself. Praise from Zaeed feels like double the praise from anyone else. He thinks back over that day, meeting back up with Shepard was enough of a shock to blur the lines in his memory. And then taking that missile to the face hadn’t helped any. The scars on his mandible prick in remembered pain as he flashes back to laying on the floor, thinking how unfair it was to have life snatched from him just as Shepard’s life was returned. He could hear the thumping of his own heart, Shepard’s sharp bark for a med-evac, then Zaeed’s voice.  
  
“You said something that day. After I’d been shot.”  
  
There’s a pause of silence from Zaeed and he looks over to see him looking back at him. “I said it didn’t look like you were going to survive, or something like that.”  
  
His head tilts a bit. “I never knew what you said. But I remember that you sounded disappointed.”  
  
The man looks away, studies his beer bottle like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen in a long time. “I was,” he says eventually. “Fucking sexy Turian. Managed to piss off all the people I hate. Pretty good with a sniper rifle-”  
  
“Pretty good?”  
  
He just laughs at the indignant interruption. “-with a flare for the dramatic and the ability to hold off a barrage of mercs on his own for days. Seemed like a loss. Might be someone I’d like to get to know better. And then he had to go and try to take on a gunship one-on-one. Hell yeah, I was disappointed.” He turns his mismatched eyes back to Garrus and there’s a heat there that hadn’t been before.  
  
He feels his heart stutter at that look, sets his bottle down on the table. “You never said anything. I never got any sort of sense from you-”  
  
The man shrugs. “I could see there were things going on. Wanted to suss it out. It was obvious, to me anyway, how you felt about Shepard. And that Shepard was pining away for someone else, well that was obvious to everyone. So I just decided maybe it wasn’t the right time. Put on my goddamn big boy undies and let it go.”  
  
“That’s very...understanding of you.”  
  
“You sound surprised.”  
  
He tips his head again, studies the man carefully. He has the thought that Zaeed is used to being overlooked, to being perceived as one dimensional. All tough merc, nothing else. And maybe it’s convenient for Zaeed to be perceived that way. But it’s becoming apparent to Garrus that Zaeed is more complex than he’s ever thought him capable of being, and he’s saddened by that thought. That he had written him off so easily. And that other people do too. “Yeah, I guess I am. And I’m sorry.”  
  
Eyebrows go up at that. “Sorry?”  
  
“Just, um. I think all this time I’ve underestimated you.”  
  
The eyes crinkle at the edges and a warmth seeps into them that makes Garrus’ heart spin. His visor reports in that Zaeed’s heart rate has climbed a bit too, and he can see for himself that his neck has reddened. Blushing. Zaeed is blushing. The man is now looking anywhere else but at him, casting his gaze around the room in desperation. “Fucking hell,” he says to himself. He gets up suddenly, like he’s sitting on white hot embers. Garrus watches him retrieve a cigar and lighter from the coat that’s hanging by the front door, then disappear out onto what he presumes is a balcony.  
  
Well then.  
  
He shuts the movie off and sits for a moment in silence, reflecting on the time since he’s known Zaeed. His mind latches onto a memory and he mulls it over for several minutes. He helps himself to a couple more beers from the strikingly bare fridge and carries them out to the balcony. Zaeed is leaning heavily on the rail, eyes on the horizon. A cigar rests between his fingers, sending up quiet smoke signals.  
  
Garrus sets the beers down on a table, keeps his distance. Something he'd said got to the man, enough to make him jumpy. He gets that he might not be so comfortable with acknowledging his feelings, he doesn't want to contribute to his unease. Zaeed is watching him from the corner of his eye, like a varren he's not sure is quite tame enough to turn his back on. So Garrus leans over the rail at the other end and admires the view of the water and sand.  
  
"That night at Shepard's party," he says eventually.  
  
There's a soft breath from Zaeed and the man turns toward him slightly. "Yeah? What about it?"  
  
He remembers back to the two of them trying to come up with ways to booby trap Shep's apartment. But the more he thinks on it, the more he realizes something. "You were goading me on the whole time, weren't you?"  
  
Okay, so maybe not the right thing to say. Zaeed turns from him back to look out over the lake and if anything, the blush that had receded spreads up his neck to tinge his cheeks. "Hell, Garrus. Goading you on in a bad way? No. But that night was the most goddamn fun I think I've had in...I don't know how long. And yeah, maybe I was putting ideas in your head, but it wasn't to mess with you." He takes a drag on the cigar, smoke puffing with his words. "If anything-" he stops short, looks like he's searching for the right way to say whatever he's thinking. "If anything I..." He rubs the heel of his hand over an eye. "Fucking hell, Garrus-"  
  
Too much. He can see it's too much. So he backs off for Zaeed's sake. "Forget it. It's not a big deal." He picks up the beers and hands one off to Zaeed. He looks back over at the lake and the sunset that's slowly forming in bright oranges and dark blues. They stand for a while, watching in the sort of silence that doesn't let the other one forget that there's another warm and highly desirable body close by.  
  
"For the record," Garrus says quietly, "that was the most fun I've had in a long time, too."  
  
Zaeed doesn't try to hide his smile, even though he's taking a long pull on his beer. Garrus feels pretty pleased with himself that he might have managed to say the right thing this time and grins back.


	3. Bounty Hunter in question has ability to turn one's frown upside down

At some point they go back in, grab fresh beers and restart the movie. Only this time Garrus' suspicions are confirmed: Zaeed is a movie talker and he keeps up a pretty constant commentary on the action that has Garrus both irritated and entertained in turns. He eventually gives up and joins in with the man. It's a pretty bad movie.  
  
Also different: Zaeed sits a bit closer to him on the couch. Not touching, not enough to get anyone's heart rate up with just proximity alone. But enough to know that if the ice hasn’t been broken, it’s probably cracking a bit. Zaeed seems more relaxed, while Garrus feels that little bit of nervous energy he had felt earlier at Zaeed’s door. That feeling of maybe kinda something might come of this whole crazy idea and he can’t wait to find out if it does, but he doesn’t want to think too far into the future because what’s going on right now is still just too new. And anyway he wants to be in the moment and appreciate things as they happen, although all that’s happening in this particular moment is them watching a movie. Maybe he needs to just rein it in a little. But then Zaeed hands him another beer and his fingers brush the man’s and his body responds with it’s own _yeah, maybe yeah, more than yeah_. It’s all he can do to not pounce on the man.  
  
He looks over at Zaeed and those mismatched eyes are focused in on him with a heat and longing that sends his own blood rushing through him. He sinks back further into the couch, hears the creak of fabric protesting under Zaeed as he shifts towards him, eyes now flicking from his eyes to his mouth. He reaches out to hold onto something, anything. That something happens to be the man’s tattoo-covered arm. Convenient, considering he wants to pull him closer.  
  
Zaeed diverts his line of attack, foregoing mouth for the thin, sensitive hide at his neck instead. A shiver runs down his back as he feels the whisper of breath on him and his hand closes more firmly on Zaeed’s arm until the man hisses, “Jesus, Garrus,” against the corner of his neck, “let up.”  
  
He releases him immediately, rubs the spot. “Sorry,” he whispers.  
  
“S’alright.” He can hear the grin in his voice. Garrus tips his head a smidge, a signal to Zaeed that he has free access to places not ordinarily up for grabs to just anyone, and he’s quick to target his pulse point. Of course he would. Soft lips work their way up slowly, until he feels warm breath on the back of his mandible and he can't help the subvocal purr of desire that rumbles up from his chest.  
  
"Garrus."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Tell me you got a message from Chakwas."  
  
Oh. Right. Prescription for the antihistamines. Small problem.  
  
His head tips further to the side allowing Zaeed even better access, but a nervous trill escapes him and he knows he has to fess up. "So, funny story about that."  
  
The man stops whatever magic he's working to pull away, eyes narrowed at him. "How goddamn funny are we talking?"  
  
"Um...I haven't actually picked that prescription up yet."  
  
The eyes narrow further. "So not fucking funny at all, really."  
  
"I sent it off. I just haven't actually been home to pick it up-"  
  
Zaeed is doing that raised eyebrow thing at him, like he's not sure if Garrus is insane or just a complete dick. His disappointed sigh certainly makes Garrus feel like the biggest asshole ever.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Zaeed shakes his head as if to clear it and swipes a hand down his face. "If you don't want to-"  
  
“No! I do! Spirits! It's all I've been thinking about since-I just-it’s been one thing and then another, and honestly I haven’t been home for weeks-” He stops, realizing he’s babbling to cover his embarrassment. There has to be a way to fix this.  
  
The truth of the matter is that while Garrus had sent the prescription off as soon as he'd gotten the message from Karin, he truly had neither been home since then nor had he given it another thought until yesterday when it had hit him like a charging Krogan. And by that point it was too late to go back to Palaven to get it. So now here he is, being a dick.  
  
What he really wants to do is wipe that disappointed look from Zaeed's face. He brings up information on his omnitool, searches out the nearest med center. He looks Zaeed in the eye. "I can fix this." It doesn't take long to transfer the necessary documents over. And the center is only minutes away, so his confidence builds until he sees the wait time to have the 'scrip filled. 2 hours, 14 minutes. What are they doing over there, manufacturing it?  
  
Time to pull Spectre status. He refills in the forms, being sure to emphasize the need for urgency-and he only feels a little guilty because he never abuses his status like this-so that when the wait time comes back as 2 hours, 21 minutes, he's pretty sure there's a conspiracy against him for trying to outmaneuver the system.  
  
He flops back on the couch and resigns himself to Zaeed's disappointment. "Over two hour wait."  
  
However, the man looks anything but disappointed. In fact, he's grinning at him, looking pleased and lecherous and eager all at once. So whatever Garrus did was apparently the right thing. "Alright." Then his mouth is on him so fast he's not quite sure if he didn't lose a few seconds to the space-time continuum somewhere. Zaeed's lips are hard on his plates, urgent and insistent. His tongue asking for entry, his hands on his shoulders to keep him still.  
  
Garrus grunts as he's pushed back into the soft cushions by a hard torso, feeling like his brain has been left behind. His body is pretty much onboard with whatever Zaeed is doing-especially since a hand is now stroking over his fringe-and he finds he's reciprocating well enough that his pulse is erratic and he has to take a deep breath to get enough oxygen delivered to his ever churning brain.  
  
The kiss is over too quickly though when Zaeed moves away, looking down at him from above. "I'm not sure I can handle a two hour make out session with you," Garrus confesses with a trill from his subvocals. He's not sure he'd even last five minutes with the way his plates are already loosening.  
  
But Zaeed just grins again-he's not sure if he's ever seen the man’s teeth so much in the entire time he's known him-leans back in to say gruffly, “That’s a damn fine idea too. But I have something else in mind.”   
  
“Something better than a two-hour make out session? If it involves ryncol, a match, and some matriarch’s old writings I think I should wait on the sidelines.”  
  
Zaeed’s smirk makes his heart race even more. When did it get so hot in the man’s apartment? “Actually, help me with something.”  
  
He’s up and away before Garrus has a chance to quip back, “Okie.”  
  
Zaeed is over at the stack of crates Garrus had noticed earlier. "Help me move these. I think it's in the third one."  
  
"It you wanted a show of muscle, you could have just asked me to flex," Garrus grabs the handle on his end. "That way I don't actually have to play the part of moving boy."  
  
"Yeah well, this kills two birds with one stone."  
  
They move another crate over and Zaeed enters a code and flips open the lid to have a look inside. "Shit. No. Bottom one."  
  
"I charge by the minute, you know. Spectre rates."  
  
"Don't worry. I tip well." He flips the next lid open. "Ha. Here we go."  
  
Garrus cranes his head to peer inside. Everything is well organized and labeled. It's obvious the crate is full of munitions of all sorts. He recognizes the holding cases for several sniper rifles, plus ammunition, and if he's not mistaken, incendiary rounds that probably shouldn't be left lying around in a residential area.  
  
Zaeed is moving a few things from one corner to the other, talking with his head in the crate. "Picked it up from a Krogan on Tuchanka who had no fucking clue what he'd gotten his grubby hands on." He pulls out a very long black case and sets it against the wall, then goes back in to move more things around. "It's only a replica, but it's still a couple hundred years old. They stopped making them once it became hard to get gunpowder." He grunts as he lifts a smaller box out and nods to Garrus to close the lid. "Haven't actually had a chance to play with it yet, so-"  
  
"Wait. Zaeed Massani has a gun he hasn't played with? Why do I feel like there's a really dirty joke in there?"  
  
He sets the long case on the crate and opens it up. "Probably there is."  
  
Garrus sees inside that there's a long rifle with a polished wooden stock. He bends to look closer. It's primitive for a firearm, and it smells of gun oil and metal. Zaeed is beaming down at it like he's given birth to it, which Garrus doesn't put past him. "What is it?"  
  
"Reproduction, like I said, 1863 Zouave rifle musket, single action, muzzle-loading which means you use the ramrod to load it. Picked up the ammo for it not too long ago." He grins at him. "Wanna play with my gun, Garrus?"  
  
Garrus' world does a small rotation before a grin spreads slowly over his face, mandibles wide. "I'll play with whatever gun you put in front of me, Zaeed."  
  
The man's eyebrow twitches over his green eye. "I was hoping you'd say that."  
  
*****  
  
Once they're at the gun range, they spend some time fiddling over the rifle. Garrus is fascinated by the ingenuity and simplicity of the parts, runs his finger over the wood smoothed by age, but when he sights down it for the first time he clicks his teeth in disapproval. "Sight's off."  
  
"Here," Zaeed hands him a couple tools to make the necessary adjustments, then returns to laying out the odd little bullets and a few of the gunpowder-filled papers.  
  
Garrus gets a whiff of the stuff inside and curls his nose up. "Is that stuff even legal?"  
  
"Barely. Done?"  
  
"Yeah, here." He passes the rifle over and watches Zaeed load it in a complicated maneuver that involves a waxed bullet, stuff from one of the packets, a tiny little cap, and the ramrod. "Why do I feel like I need a helmet and a blast radius warning? You sure you know what you’re doing?"  
  
Zaeed just gives him a wicked grin and aims. “I watched a vid.”   
  
“Oh, a vid. Well, that makes you the expert.”  
  
Zaeed’s shoulder jerks with the kickback and the man whoops a laugh. "Hell, yeah." He’s hit the target, but not dead on. He begins the process of reloading the rifle and passes it to Garrus. “Hands feeling steady enough to shoot?”  
  
“My hands are always steady.” He reaches out carefully, holds it up to his shoulder. “I’ll give it a try. Now that you’ve tested it for safety and all.”  
  
“I’m all about gun safety, Garrus.”  
  
“Mmhmm.” He aims, shoots, and feels a little thrill as he hits the target. A whiff of spent gunpowder tickles his nose. He grins, mandibles flicking at Zaeed. Damn, the man knows how to play with guns.  
  
The next few hours pass quickly as they adjust the sight repeatedly, arguing about whether a mod could be retrofitted, switching the gun back and forth between the two of them. Garrus learns how to load and also learns to not breathe while the scent of the black powder is in the air because it makes him sneeze, which makes Zaeed laugh. It's a bit like being back on the _Normandy_ , only no Collectors or Cerberus to get all up in their fun.  
  
He almost forgets that what they're doing is just a distraction. Almost. It might be a little easier to forget if Zaeed stopped giving him heated looks, or if he stopped throwing around flirtatious innuendos. He wasn't prepared for the man to be so teasing. But he's adjusting, giving back as well as he gets. They share more than just a couple looks that make Garrus' heart speed, sees the answer in Zaeed's face. At some point this evening, he realizes, they're going to strip each other's clothes off and fumble around with each other's bodies and it's going to be strange and new and exciting. He thinks maybe the anticipation might just kill him.  
  
Eventually they run out of ammo and powder and caps. They start to pack up the gear and he looks up and down the firing range to realize they're the only ones left. “I think we scared everyone away.”  
  
“Good, then I can do this-” and with that Zaeed has him up against the workbench and without so much as a by-your-leave he’s kissing him, holding him tight, hips pressed against hips. There’s a heat in the kiss that feels like hot embers, as if Zaeed has been simmering on a slow burn for the last few hours and that, more than anything, sends a rush of longing through him that makes him feel a little out of control. He has no thought beyond the man he has his arms around other than the surprise of realizing that a month ago, he could not have fathomed being here right now. With Zaeed Massani of all people. But it doesn’t feel wrong, or strange.  
  
It feels right.  
  
It feels like possibility.  
  
“This is mad, Garrus,” the man says quietly against the corner his mouth. “Been a long time since I’ve tried anything like this. Anything that means something.” He hears Zaeed give a shaky breath, his nose nudging lightly over the scars on his mandible. “I don’t want to fuck it up.”  
  
He bows his head into the dip of Zaeed’s shoulder, speaks against the soft skin just at the edge of his collar. “So don’t fuck it up.” He takes a deep breath, smells the desire coming off Zaeed and it makes him growl, subvocals voicing his need. “I like being friends. I’d like something more. I’d like to at least try.” He tightens his grip, fisting the fabric of the man’s shirt. He hears him groan, vibrations tickling his mouth plates as they rest on his skin.  
  
“Hell. Garrus,” his head tips, allowing him better access to his vulnerable pulse and Garrus feels a thrill with the implications.  
  
“No qualms about steady hands?”  
  
Zaeed laughs, deep in his chest, just before Garrus reclaims his mouth. He tries to keep it light and playful, but he’s had a month to think about it and frankly he’s not really in the mood anymore to tease. He increases the pressure and Zaeed responds in kind, hands flat on his back, holding him tight up against him. Garrus tightens his hands in Zaeed’s shirt and if he hadn’t had his gloves on, he’s certain there would be holes in it. He makes a mental note to see to getting his talons dulled, but then Zaeed’s tongue does a magic twist and he’s back in the moment of a warm mouth pressed to his, fingers gently stroking his hide, the hardening arousal pressing on his hip.  
  
“So,” he gasps in a breath, “you gonna take me home?” He slides a hand down to Zaeed’s ass, finally into a back pocket, grinds their hips together. His plates are loose, a pleasant sensation moving through his groin.  
  
The man groans, loud and long and deep. “Yeah, I think you might do nicely.”  
  
“Well, when you put it like that-”  
  
Zaeed looks him straight in the eye, his teasing tone belying the sparks of heated need he can see in those mismatched eyes. He has the brief thought that yes, maybe Zaeed is right. Maybe this is madness. But if it is, he’s more than just a little alright with it. If it is, madness feels pretty much like the direction he wants to be heading.


	4. Subject continues to astonish and astound with unforeseen revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Garrus and his bits: I subscribe to the idea of the Turian cloaca, where everything is hidden behind the plates. So. Also, in thinking about where Garrus’ penis lives while not in use, I imagine it to be (and have read other fanfic that suggests this) that it’s in a sort of canal/tube/shaft housing (heretofore known as the penile shaft or canal or internal canal) (the walls of which produce all that lovely, sexy natural lubrication), and should someone want to, they could possibly access that canal - to a small degree - with a finger when the penis is extended out (tight fit, probably: pleasurable, hopefully). Coming up with terminology for this is mind-blowingly frustrating because it either sounds clinical or confusing (shaft being the big one, since it can be the thing that goes into something or the something that the thing goes into - who came up with that??), so I wanted to explain that. And if you haven’t just had the biggest clue as to what’s going to happen in this chapter (and maybe perhaps a subsequent chapter), I don’t know what else I can do to tell you that smutty xenophilia is on the way...
> 
> Also I'm upping the rating. Because smutty xenophilia is smutty.

In the end, Zaeed doesn't take him home. He drops him off at the med center and let’s him find his way back to the flat, which is fine. There are a few things on his list he wants to take care of. Meds: check. Medigel (for chafing): check. Quick stop for talon dulling: check. Pick up dual-chirality lube and condoms (human and turian): check, check. That might be overkill, and it's likely Zaeed already has all that, but he's pretty confident that if anything stops this from happening from this point on it won't be him.  
  
When he returns, Zaeed has the rifle apart on the coffee table, the tang of cleaning oil and gunpowder fresh in the air. There's music coming from somewhere, nothing he's ever heard before, but pleasant to his ears. A quick search with his visor tells him it's 20th century Earth, Delta Blues. He makes a mental note to do more research later and tosses the bag on the kitchen counter. Zaeed gives him one of those sideways glances that makes his heart rate nudge up at bit.  
  
"Glasses?"  
  
Zaeed nods towards the kitchen. "Over the sink."  
  
Garrus sees he has all the parts of the gun arranged on a cloth and he sets a small piece down, wipes his hands on a rag. "What'd you do, buy them out?" He's looking at the bag, obviously full of something other than just the prescription.  
  
“I did,” he jokes, “You never know when there’ll be a run on levo antihistamines.” Garrus' back is turned as he fills a glass with water and downs the meds in one swallow. When he turns, the man is right behind him, curiously lifting a corner of the bag. One part of Garrus' brain, the part that's always on high alert because he's Turian, because he's lived through Reaper invasions and Collector ambushes and charging Krogan mercs is amazed that this man can move so silently, sneak up on him so quickly. It's all a part of Zaeed's package: sneak up and then blow them out of the sky with a big boom.  
  
Zaeed's eyebrows raise up as he sees the extra supplies. He ogles Garrus. "Something you have in mind?"  
  
He shrugs, a habit he knows he picked up from Shepard, "One can never know what situation might present itself." He's trying to not feel weird. But honestly it's been awhile since any of this has come up. He doesn't want to think about how long. He feels out of practice. And Zaeed isn't doing anything to ease his worries. In fact, he seems to be zeroing in.  
  
"Planning for bloody well any contingency I see."  
  
He leans back on the counter, crossing his arms and putting on the best Act Casual he can come up with. "Well, I skipped a few things, like Batarian condoms and Quarian detox suits. Figured it was probably safe to forego those. And there was something called a cock ring. It looked uncomfortable, so I passed on that too."  
  
Zaeed breaths out a small laugh, an eyebrow quirking briefly. "Yeah, well. They're not all bad if you know what you're doing."  
  
Intrigued, he pauses a beat and gives him his best heated stare. "Maybe we can talk about that later."  
  
"Yeah." The man takes a few steps closer so that he's in Garrus' personal space. Not touching. Not yet. "Later." The man's voice is lower, with an edge to it. Garrus catches a whiff of pheromones and is glad he's leaning on something. It's heady stuff and they haven't even done anything yet.  
  
"So I have a confession," he says.  
  
Zaeed grins at him. "You have that disfiguring Turian STD?"  
  
"What? No!"  
  
"You're a goddamn Volus in disguise."  
  
"Cut it out. No."  
  
"You cry after sex? Nothing to be ashamed of-"  
  
"I only cry when it's really bad sex. Don't think that's going to be a problem here. What you keep interrupting me from saying is you're not my first Human, but it's been awhile. Just thought you should know."  
  
He makes a move to back away. "Well, that thrill is gone then-"  
  
He reaches out and pulls Zaeed in. "Oh, Spirits. Shut up-"  
  
"Make me."  
  
He does, tugging him closer so he can wrap his arms around him, stopping his words with his mouth and tongue. He feels Zaeed pull his visor off gently then hears him set it on the counter. “So no video for posterity, then?”  
  
Soft lips pull at the end points of his mandible. “Not this time,” he answers gruffly.  
  
Not this time. He likes the implication that there will be a next time. His heart is tripping over itself and he takes a deep breath as Zaeed’s tongue flicks the inside of his mandible. “Oh.” Both mandibles go slack. He closes his eyes from the pleasant ache behind his plates, digs his fingers into Zaeed’s lower back. “Do that again.”  
  
The man laughs softly. “What, this?” He repeats the movement with his tongue, sliding it along the inside length as far as it can go, then back to the front all the way down to his points. Then he moves and does the same to the scarred side. The tongue stops at a few of the larger scars on the bottom ridge to worry at a little. He focuses in on the slick feel of the tongue, on Zaeed’s hands holding his arms in a firm grip, on the warm breath that skims his jaw line. “You like that?” he asks after he finishes the pass.  
  
Garrus looks at him closely. Zaeed has a satisfied grin on his face, eyes half-lidded in desire. “Yeah. That’s...good. Do I want to know how you know about that? No, never mind. Just, uh...feel free to do that. Whenever.”  
  
“Whenever, huh?” Zaeed’s hands slide down his arms, brushing along the fabric of his tunic until they come to rest around his back at Garrus’ hands. With more gentleness than Garrus would have ever guessed the man had, he clasps his hands over Garrus’ briefly before bringing one of them up between them. He flicks open the fastening of his glove and looks up at him. “May I?”  Garrus’ heart thuds in his chest at the realization of what Zaeed intends. A Turian doesn’t reveal his talons for anyone except family and those they’re most intimate with. That he's asking is a big clue-as if he needed another-that he's not Zaeed's first Turian.  
  
He nods, watches with a predatory growl vibrating low in his chest as Zaeed peels off the fingers one at a time until the entire thing can be pulled free. He sets the glove on the counter with an absent gesture, holding Garrus’ hand in his. He runs his fingertips over the palm, up to the talons, rubs the freshly dulled edge with a thumb. He flicks a look up at him, eyebrows raised in a question.  
  
Garrus shrugs. “Can’t be too careful. You Humans are kinda squishy.”  
  
He smirks, though doesn’t say anything. Instead he brings the hand up to his mouth, his eyes still locked with Garrus’, and damned if he doesn’t lick his way along the center line of his palm, up a finger to end at a dulled talon. Garrus catches a glimpse of glistening tongue as it curls over the talon before disappearing back into the man's mouth. Zaeed's eyes close with a breathy moan.  
  
He becomes aware that his subvocals are trilling need, telling whoever’s in range that this man can do pretty much anything he wants to him right now. His plates have loosened further, cock half hard and lubricated already. Zaeed gives him a sly glance and repeats the performance with the other hand. By the end of all of it, Garrus is fully hard and only held in by the fabric of his trousers. “Spirits, Zaeed.”  
  
That sly look is back. “Good?”  
  
He nods. “Yeah, good. More than good.”  
  
Hands trail down his chest to rest teasingly just above his waist. “Good.” Clever fingers find the fastenings of Garrus’ tunic on either side until it’s hanging loose, all while their eyes are locked in on the other's. The intensity of Zaeed’s gaze makes him feel increasingly light headed and unbalanced, not quite sure where his center of gravity has run off to. His hands at Zaeed’s waist tighten until he’s forced to release him as the man tugs his tunic off over his arms and head. He hears cloth hit the floor.  
  
He watches with keen eyes as Zaeed traces over his plates with his fingers, across the ridge of his keel bone, down to his waist where this time he presses the pads of his fingers into the sensitive hide. His touch is light, almost reverent as it moves over his body. Garrus can’t suppress a groan or the small whine in his subvocals as the fingers knead in more insistently. His talons latch into the belt loops of Zaeed’s jeans, urging him closer.  
  
The man leans in, places a kiss along the side of his carapace, murmurs a breathy sigh. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Garrus.” Fingers leave a trail up his back as Zaeed tightens his embrace, brings his chest against the warm plates, his mouth once again on his neck. Garrus pulls his shirt out from being tucked into the jeans, slips his hands underneath to feel the smooth skin. But it’s not enough. He wants that skin on his plates. He slides his hands fully under and moves them up, taking the bottom edge of the shirt with them until Zaeed has to move back and away for a moment for the shirt to go up over his head.  
  
When he returns his mouth is immediately on his, one hand down to his ass pulling him tighter. The other finds its place under Garrus’ fringe, holding the back of his head. The man’s hips rub up with an insistent pressure and Garrus can feel his hardness, the proof of Zaeed’s need. His fingers find their way into both of the back pockets and give the soft flesh just under the cloth a playful squeeze.  
  
Zaeed chuckles against his mouth plates. “Can’t help yourself, can you?”  
  
“Are these pockets supposed to serve any practical purpose? Or were they just put there to drive Turians crazy?”  
  
"That's not enough? You want practicality as well?"  
  
He bends down and nuzzles into his neck, smells the heady scent of desire coming off him, quells the urge to push him down and have him right there on the kitchen floor. “Can we-” he nods toward the bedroom, “-take this in there?”  
  
He’s given a wicked grin and one of Zaeed’s eyebrows twitches briefly. One hand is removed from a pocket and clasped by too-soft fingers. “C’mon.” He leads him the few steps over to the bed where Zaeed pushes him down to sit before he kneels in front of him and begins to remove his boots.  
  
“Now, that’s sexy,” he quips.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You, on your knees.” He leans back on the bed, propped with his hands behind him. It creates a delicious pressure on his groin, trousers pulled taut over his hips.  
  
Zaeed grins up at him, working on the second boot. “Is this a kink we need to talk about?”  
  
“Not just yet,” he teases back.  
  
The man grunts as he stands, “Saving the good stuff for later?” He toes off his own boots, steps closer, in between Garrus’ spread thighs.  
  
“Oh, I’ve got lots of good stuff. Don’t worry.”  
  
Zaeed places a knee on the bed right at Garrus’ crotch. He frames Garrus’ face with his hands, thumbs stroking his mandibles. He kisses him, lightly and too briefly. “Don’t hold back, Garrus,” he says, warm breath on his mouth.  
  
He wraps his arms around his back, pulls the soft body to him as they tumble back onto the bed. “Don’t worry about that either.” He rolls so that Zaeed is under him, a hand cradling his head as he kisses him back harder, invading his mouth with enough force that he hears a groan. He trails a hand down lightly over his chest, feeling the play of muscle under the pads of his fingers, the prickle of fine hair that leads in a line down to the nub on his belly and beyond under the jeans. He slides a finger under the waistband, teasing the skin of Zaeed’s waist, feels a huff of breath against his mouth.  
  
Then he’s flipped over onto his back, Zaeed at his throat with his hot mouth and blunt teeth. He trills and groans, eyes closed at the sensation, bucking up against Zaeed’s hip. He feels that tongue rubbing over the ridge of his carapace, down to his keel bone. “Tell me what you want,” he feels the murmur vibrate against him. Zaeed moves further down, lips tracing at the thin hide between plates on his chest. “How do you want me?”  
  
Garrus blinks up at him, a rapid-fire porny blur of positions and situations speeding through his head. He was supposed to chose? His mandibles go slack as Zaeed moves down further, lips at the sensitive hide of his waist. “Everything. I want everything,” he finally gasps. “Every way.”  
  
Zaeed laughs, looks up at him with longing and fondness. Garrus moans at the look, heart racing. He cups Zaeed’s head, fingers tangling through his hair, trails his hand down over his scarred cheek to his neck. He rubs his thumb along the strong jawline.  
  
“Pick something,” Zaeed says with another laugh, sliding kisses over his hide just at the edge of his waistband.  
  
“Just-whatever. Anything. Oh…”  
  
His mouth is now over his opened seam, tongue licking at the dampened spot of his trousers. He feels the scrape of teeth over cloth, then pressure released as Zaeed unfastens his trousers, slowly pulls them down over his hips. Garrus has the presence of mind to help, lifting up his butt as Zaeed mouths over his exposed seam. He groans, loud, as his cock is released with blessed relief, sliding through his natural lubrication to bump Zaeed’s chin. He laughs softly, ignores it as he carefully removes his trousers over his spurs and down off his legs. Garrus looks down, sees him slowly crawling back up between his spread legs, eyes focused in on the ridged, blue cock in front of him.  
  
He has a brief moment of feeling vulnerable, that point of no return of being laid out naked and exposed for new eyes. His heart rate ratchets up a notch and he trills nervously in his subharmonics. But then Zaeed dips his head and he imagines what Zaeed is intending as he stalks closer, feels precum practically seep from his dick, and then- _oh, fuck yes_ -that tongue is lapping at the head, then down to the base and up, mouth almost greedy as it closes over him. He watches closely, hands fisting the sheets as he sucks just at the tip, slowly moving down to take more of him in. Then that tongue again, worrying at the sensitive spot underneath before he lips down one side and then the other.  
  
“This ‘whatever’ okay?” Zaeed asks, looking up at him.  
  
Garrus has to swallow several times. His mouth is dry and his brain is overloaded. He needs a moment to form words. “Yeah. Okay. More.” So not the most eloquent speech he’s ever given, but there’s nothing wrong with getting right to the point.  
  
Zaeed smirks, doesn’t break eye contact as he takes him back in his mouth. He can see Zaeed slide his legs out behind him, still in his jeans, rutting slowly against the bed as he works magic with his tongue. A soft hand slides up over his plates, grabs onto the small, boney jut of his hip, fingers curling down to rub at his softer hide. The other hand works in tandem with that warm mouth, holding the base of his dick as Zaeed’s head bobs over him. He builds him up slowly, creating delicious suction, taking him all in until his nose bumps up to his plates, then using his tongue to slide across the ridges on his dick. The hand at his hip moves down, disappears underneath him until he feels pressure at his ass, slipping through lubrication that’s run down from his cock’s internal canal.  
  
“Oh-Spirits-” The finger slides in easily, just a little at first and it's all he can do to not grab Zaeed by the back to his head and push his cock down his throat. It's an intense and primal urge that he quells with deep breaths. He becomes aware that his subvocals are keening a whine, and he can't stop the lusty moan that bellows up from his lungs as Zaeed pushes his finger in further, just enough to find that bundle of nerves. He does buck up then, a shock of desire and need pulsing through him. He scrambles his feet over the bed, knees  splayed out in wanton abandon. Zaeed moves his arm over a hip to hold him down, two fingers spreading apart to hold his cock as the man increases the suction, speeds the movement of his head over him.  
  
"Fuck-" He's not going to last. He feels himself plummeting and can't do, doesn't want to do anything to stop it. "Zaeed. I-" he feels and hears his hum, all the encouragement he needs to let go, the pressure building to fever pitch. "Shit! Shit-I can't-" his plates are over-sensitive, hide tingling with sensation. Zaeed rubs harder with his finger, swirls his tongue over the head, let's up on the pressure of his hips so he can pump him with his hand, and its just enough, never will be enough-"Fuck! Zaeed!"  
  
He spasms into Zaeed's mouth, head back as he comes. He's dimly aware that he's loud enough in his subvocals that if another Turian were passing in the hallway outside they could hear the flanged cry of delight, the begging plea for it not to end. The thought alone is enough to make him moan louder. He gasps and laughs as his hips jerk up, opening his eyes to look down and see Zaeed sucking the cum practically out of him with a zeal and greed he never would have guessed him capable.  
  
 _Zaeed Massani likes to swallow..._  
  
And that's just. Fucking. Hot.  
  
His hips twinge with a life of their own, tremors still shaking him. Zaeed hums again, passing his tongue over the tip of his cock, licking smirking lips as he looks up at Garrus. He sits up slightly, grasps at the man's shoulders, urging him closer. "Come here."  
  
Zaeed crawls up, a self-satisfied grin on his face that puckers the scar on his cheek. "Fuck, Vakarian. Could you be any goddamn louder?"  
  
"Don't look so smug. I howl like that when I stub my toe, too." Garrus pulls him down tight on his chest, kissing him, silencing his smart retort. He can taste himself on his tongue and it sends another surge of desire down his spine. His heart is still thudding in his chest, panting breaths against Zaeed's mouth. He throws a leg over Zaeed's, flips them over. Kisses him slow and long until he's moaning and writhing beneath him, fingers digging into the softer hide between the plates on his back. He pulls away slightly, studies him carefully. He's baffled by this man, in endorphin-driven awe about him. He's unexpected and charming and passionate in a way that makes Garrus' heart feel like it's about to burst open. That germ of possibility raises it's head again but he quashes it. Too soon. Enjoy this now. Think about maybe later.  
  
He tips his crest to rest lightly on his forehead. "Why do you still have those damned pants on?"  
  
Fingers trace down his back to cup his ass. "Because you haven't bloody well taken them off me."  
  
Garrus purrs low in his chest. "Hm. I see your point." He kisses the man’s neck, moves down to lick at one of those odd budding nipples, making note of scars and tattoos as he passes. Zaeed grunts and his back arches when he laps at first one and then the other nipple, both of them raising to a peak when he does. The man’s fingers are pressing hard to the back of his head just under his fringe, small indents from his blunt fingernails digging into his thinned hide. He swipes his tongue over a nipple again just to watch the mismatched eyes spark with longing, then slinks his way down Zaeed’s body out of reach of grasping fingers. He manages the button, and the zipper just barely, tugs the jeans down. Hooded eyes watch while Zaeed squirms just enough to help get the jeans off his hips, then kicks his feet to remove them completely.  
  
The waistband of the man's black briefs entices, but instead he leans close to press his mouth in on the well-dampened cloth over his erection. The scent of arousal is strong as he rubs his nose over the hard cock. Zaeed groans, hips spasming slightly and he gets that hardness right up against his mouth, can’t resist a pass back and forth over it with his mouth plates slightly open adding warm air to the mix of sensations. He holds him down at his hips, draws out another low growl of longing from the man’s lungs. He can feel Zaeed try to grab hold of his head somehow, his fingers along the ridges of his crest and fringe. But he seems to know enough not to give his fringe a tug. Instead he mutters, “Jesus, Garrus. Stop fucking teasing.”  
  
Hard to say no to someone like Zaeed, especially when his request is verging on a plea. Maybe as close as the man would ever get. Someday perhaps he'll be in a better position to find out how long he can make him hold out, how strong his will is. But remembering the way Zaeed had humped at the bedclothes earlier, he foregoes any other sort of torment as something that could be put off until later. Zaeed's waited long enough.  
  
He hooks his talons in under the waistband on either hip, dragging them down slowly. He feels Zaeed's piercing gaze as he watches, wonders if the man is even breathing he's so still. But his focus is on the tip of the cock just peeking over the edge, engorged with blood and leaking precum. He pauses, takes a moment to swipe his tongue over the head, the desire to sample too strong. Salty, tangy, musky-the man tastes so good he licks again, the tip of his tongue flicking over the slit, and hears Zaeed gasp in a deep breath. He rubs his mouth down over the cloth again, feels his cock pulse. He hums a pleased vibration in his subvocals, pulls down the elastic further-  
  
"Um...Zaeed?" He looks down at the cock that springs up, red with blood and thick and-  
  
"What?" The man sounds a bit peeved, eyes closed, head back.  
  
"I feel like this is something we need to talk about."  
  
He opens his eyes, looks at him with anything but clear focus. "What the fuck are you on about?"  
  
Garrus nods down at the man's penis and Zaeed's gaze moves down to it as well. "What-" He sees realization dawn. "Fuck. Later. Talk about it later."  
  
"Is it-I mean, is it-"  
  
"It's fine. Promise I'll tell you later, just-" he sees the man's adam's apple bob several times. "Garrus." Zaeed's voice has taken on an urgent quality, not begging. But more needy than he's ever heard from the man. It's not that so much that sends him back in, but the plea in his eyes that he can't give voice to, that maybe he doesn't know how to vocalize.  
  
One thing's for sure, Garrus thinks as he removes the boxers and tosses them aside, there is no way in hell he's leaving this apartment until he hears the story of Zaeed Massani and his Flame-Tattooed Penis.


	5. This particular bounty hunter shows signs of kink for the boys in blue

They're laying in a satisfied stupor, Zaeed sweaty and Garrus panting, when the man's voice rumbles, "Spending the night?" In all honesty, he hadn't thought that far ahead. The idea of making his way back to his own ship, his own bed, seems like too much trouble and energy involved. If asked before today (or technically yesterday, he supposes) he would have said Zaeed would be the type to just kick him out, rather than ask his preference. He should know by now better than to presume.  
  
Garrus looks over at him. The air is thick with the smell of sex and sweat. But also, after the question is asked, an impression of breathless waiting. Zaeed's face is a mask, hard to tell if he's uneasy about the question, or why he even should be. Especially after everything they had just done. But when Garrus says, "If it's alright," the small release of tension is palpable.  
  
Zaeed looks at him then, not smiling as Garrus had expected and his gizzard twists, thinking he has indeed misread the man and said the wrong thing. And really, he reasons to himself, it probably is time to get out of Zaeed's hair. He can't blame him for being sick of him by now. But then he feels the back of Zaeed's hand on his chest, knuckles brushing softly, almost affectionately over his plates. A look flashes over Zaeed's face, there and gone so quickly that he can't be sure he sees correctly, and the dim lighting coming in from the living room is no help, but he thinks he sees a brief moment of...hope.  
  
"Alright by me," the man says. He gets up then, roaming gloriously naked through the apartment, turning off lights and the music, closing and locking the balcony door that had started to let in a breeze of cooler night air. Garrus starts to drift off into that pleasant half-sleep provided by the release of endorphins and pent up energy when he feels the bed dip as Zaeed returns, pulling the covers up over them both as he settles back on the bed. He lays quietly and listens to Zaeed breathing, a sort of stillness coming over them. What should have felt awkward, two naked beings alone in the dark for the first time, instead feels comfortable and easy. He reaches a hand over the small space between them and finds the soft skin of Zaeed's hip, laying it on the warmth. After a moment, he hears the rustle of cloth, a hand with too many fingers coming to interweave with his own.  
  
He can't remember falling asleep.  
  
_____  
  
Zaeed snores. Not loud or obnoxious. But he's not used to it, so it wakes him at some point during the night. The pleasant surprise is finding the man pressed up to him chest-to-chest as they lay on their sides, an arm draped over his waist and their legs twined up so much Garrus isn't even really sure where his own are at. He shifts his arm a bit from under Zaeed's head where it's starting to fall asleep, but the man grumbles, tightens his grip for a moment. Garrus decides that really it's not all bad if he has an arm that needs to be amputated due to lack of blood in the morning. It's completely worth it just to know that this gruff, ruthless badass is snuggled up against him of his own free will. So he just pulls him closer and purrs deep in his chest.  
  
He blinks into the darkness, wondering but not concerned about the time. It feels like he's only slept a few hours, muscles just beginning to register soreness from their enthusiastic activities. He grins to himself. Given what he had known about Zaeed, last night was not what he had expected. It's been awhile for him. He has to stretch his memory back and-ah, yes. Gizz, Omega. (Kaidan was on the ship, had been on the ship for some time and he and Shepard had been thick as thieves and he'd decided it was time to just let it go.) Stress release. Just after after helping Aria. Just before they'd headed back to Earth. Just before the beginning of the end.  
  
That brief encounter pales in comparison to what has gone on here. In fact, barring a few longer term relationships, where his partner and he had been able to learn each other’s preferences and desires over time, there's not much that can measure up to this. He's never had a first time be so enjoyable, so fun with someone, never felt before like he could say anything, ask for anything so early in the-he falters over the word to define whatever this is between Zaeed and himself, comes up short. That feeling of awe he had felt earlier returns. He's a dumbass for not seeing that he could have had this years earlier.  
  
He sighs, breathing in Zaeed's scent, the smell of sex still lingering in the air. He returns to a dreamless slumber.  
  
_____  
  
When he wakes the second time Zaeed is gone and he's face-planted in the pillow, drooling. A thin line of dusky morning light edges in through the curtains. He groans and rubs away the highly unattractive drool from his mouth, rolls and stretches his sore legs. He listens carefully, doesn't hear a noise coming from anywhere in the apartment. When he sits up he sees a note on the bed. "Getting breakfast. Back soon."  
  
Okay. So. He surveys the bed, slightly gross with lingering crusty fluids of various sorts, gets up with the intention to pull the sheets off to throw in the laundry he had noticed earlier in the bathroom, but stops when he notices the multiple tears at the bottom. Obviously from his toe claws. And a couple on the other end, probably from his fringe. Huh. He opens up his omnitool and orders Zaeed some new sheets.  
  
He searches around the apartment trying to find his clothes. His boots are still at the bottom of the bed where Zaeed had placed them, gloves still on the kitchen counter. But his tunic and trousers are mysteriously gone, until he thinks to check the laundry and sees they're already halfway through the cleaning cycle. Huh. Add thoughtful to Zaeed's many intriguing qualities.  
  
He's in the shower when he hears the front door, Zaeed's unmistakable booted footsteps as he crosses the room. He peeks over at the door to find the man leaning on the door jam, arms crossed.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey."  
  
Seeing him standing there, he feels an overwhelming rush of urgent desire. Memories of the previous night assert themselves, overriding any thought he'd just been having-returning to his ship, heading to the Aethon Cluster to find a red sand manufacturer-and he pushes aside the glass door and steps from the shower dripping wet to take Zaeed's hand in his and pull him back in with him. He ignores his protest of "The hell are you doing?" because he's laughing his hoarse croak of a laugh and stepping under the water with no reservations that Garrus can see. T-shirt and jeans are soaked through as he encloses him in his arms and kisses him, gently at first, but then with more passion, more need. Harder and fiercer until they're clutching at each other with rough hands, tongues at war, breath quickening. He hears Zaeed moan, then laugh against his mouth, fingers digging into his back. He turns them, Zaeed backed up to the tile wall as he pushes into him, holding him firmly at his shoulders. He doesn't have enough hands to touch him where he wants. And he wants to, needs to touch him everywhere.  
  
His fingers scramble at Zaeed's jeans-a belt this time, in addition to the button and zipper-and he groans with frustration at the unwelcome addition, wanting to palm him now. His fingers fumble with water soaked fabric that refuses to cooperate.  
  
"Wait, shit." Human fingers join his, pushing them out of the way. "Garrus. Damnit-" Zaeed barely has himself unzipped with shaking, eager fingers before Garrus' hand is down his pants and he's stroking that hardening cock, mouth now at his neck that he licks with long strokes in time with the movement of his fingers. He feels the pulse and swell with each pass from head to base and he returns to kiss bruised lips, water pounding on his back, Zaeed's fingers grasping to hold on as he moans. He pushes his hand further down in, the jeans stubbornly, wetly stuck to Zaeed’s hips, brushing the tips of his fingers against the skin of his balls.  
  
“Damn these pants,” he huffs into Zaeed’s mouth.  
  
His bark of laughter brings him back to solid ground for a moment. “Coulda asked me to take them off first.”  
  
“Fuck that.” He has he presence of mind now to remove his hand, grab the jeans at his hips and yank down enough so he can get a good grip on what he wants.  
  
“Ah, shit!” Zaeed shudders against him, hips thrusting, head banging back on the tile.  
  
He becomes aware that at some point his own cock has slid from its shaft and he takes them both in his hand, looks down to see his own blue erection lined up with Zaeed’s inked one and- _fuck_ -he hadn’t really gotten a good look at it in the half-light last night, but now with the bright bathroom light blazing he can see that it’s gorgeous. Even without the bright reds and yellows and oranges that circle all along the circumference from the base halfway up. It’s slight curve-not as much as his but still it tilts up enticingly, the foreskin sliding back to reveal the blunt head that's just beginning to darken with blood. Oh but, it's just beautiful. He strokes both of them together a few times, his crest resting on Zaeed's shoulder as he looks down at them, hearing the deep, guttural moan that seems to reverberate through the man's body.  
  
His other hand is pressed into Zaeed's shoulder, the soaked t-shirt clinging to his warm skin. He kisses a line from shoulder to neck, nuzzling his nose in the soft curve connecting them. "You're perfect," he mutters, feels the silent answer in Zaeed's fingers as he clutches tighter to him. His hips move slowly and he loosens his grip slightly to allow his cock to rub over Zaeed's to create delicious friction. But then it's not enough. He wants-what does he want? He wants-he licks the edge of his ear. "Turn," he says, pushing and pulling at his shoulders to encourage him to move.  
  
Not exactly easy when wet jeans are stuck around knees and boots are still on. Not his most graceful turn, and Garrus catches him when Zaeed grunts and nearly tips. “You would ask,” he grumbles, but the grin in his voice gives him away.  
  
“But if I hadn’t, I couldn’t do this.” He dips his knees a smidge, slides his cock in between Zaeed’s thighs, pressing his hands on the man’s hips and leaning in to press plates to skin.  
  
There’s a purring groan as the tip of Garrus’ cock hits Zaeed’s sack and as if he knows what he wants, has read Garrus' mind, he tightens his thighs together. One hand braces their shared weight on the wall while the other dips down to grasp lightly at the blue cock head just at the apex of his thighs. He turns his head, looks at Garrus over his shoulder, a wicked grin covering his face. "Yeah."  
  
He kisses him, quick and hard, captures his gaze with his own and grins back, mandibles twitching. His arms wrap around his chest, seeking under the wet t-shirt, fingers finding scars and muscle to play over. He finds both pleasing. He captures Zaeed's dick, gives it a smooth stroke, watches as the man's eyelids flutter closed.  
  
"Damn, you have a tight grip."  
  
He lets up slightly, slowly pumps his hips. "Too much?"  
  
He shakes his head quickly. "No. S'good."  
  
Garrus grins and resumes the pressure, kisses the soft skin under Zaeed's ear.  
  
Too soon he's panting in that ear, cheered on by Zaeed's filthy mouth and the sensations building in his loins, hips pistoning, wet plates slapping on skin. Too soon they're both painting the tiles with cum, gasping harsh breaths, Garrus leaning heavily on Zaeed's back as his knees threaten to give out. Too soon it's over, Zaeed's chuckle echoing over the splashing of the water.  
  
He leans on him further, pressing the body up onto the cold tile, arms around him, hands flat on the rising and falling chest. He softly kisses the downy hair at the base of Zaeed's neck, damp with water. Rubs his mouth over the edge of the shirt. "Sorry." He kisses an apology on his shoulder.  
  
"For what?" Zaeed shifts the arm that's held them both up so he can lean his head on the forearm.  
  
"I didn't-couldn't slow down," he shifts his feet, covering the back of Zaeed's body with his own.  
  
Zaeed turns his head, looks at him from the corner of his eye. "Do you hear me complaining? That was fucking hot."  
  
He purrs in agreement, mouths the wet cloth, warm from the water and the body underneath. "Okie. I just-I wasn't planning on it being over so soon."  
  
"You feel that bad, you can make it up to me later."  
  
And there it is again. The suggestion that there will be a later. Pleased, he tugs the man into a kiss, slow and all tongues. "I can do that," he promises.  
  
“You can also help me get my goddamn boots off.”  
  
_____  
  
  
Garrus chases a naked Zaeed out of the bathroom with the promise that he’ll clean up the mess. Water-logged clothes and towels go in the laundry, but he’s not sure what to do with the boots, so he props them upside down in the shower stall to let them drip dry. His own clothes are lovely and warm, fresh from the dry cycle as he pulls them on.  
  
When he emerges into the kitchen, he finds a steaming mug of Turian hot chocolate waiting for him, along with an appetizing plate of dextro food that would put his own usual simple breakfasts to shame. And just the fact that Zaeed got him his favorite morning drink makes him feel off kilter. "You got me hot chocolate?"  
  
"There's more in that thermos." Zaeed's arms are loaded with his own mug and plate, otherwise he would hug him. As it is, he leans and kisses him softly, which turns into something a bit more than just a ‘thank you’ kiss.  
  
For a moment, he contemplates throwing the cup and plate across the room and pulling the man tight to him. But knowing how Humans are with their coffee, that might just get him kicked out the door. So he settles for resting his crest on Zaeed’s forehead. “Thanks.”  
  
Zaeed smirks and nods towards the balcony. "Eat outside?"  
  
He hadn’t really taken much note of the balcony last night, but he sees now that it looks like Zaeed probably spends more time out there than inside when he’s home. The chairs at the table are cushioned and comfortable, there’s a low stool to one side about the right height for kicking up one’s feet, and even a lamp and a pile of books. There’s also a roof overhang to protect from weather that Zaeed retracts with a switch.  
  
It’s brisk. Any colder and he’d be uncomfortable. As it is, he’s glad for the hot drink to wrap his fingers around. He wonders if Zaeed had noticed his shredded sheets. “Um, so. I ordered some new sheets for you.”  
  
“You didn’t have to do that.” Okay, so he had noticed. “I have extra.”  
  
“Well, it was my fault. I didn’t even think about it. Guess I got a little carried away.”  
  
Zaeed slips him a sly grin. “Maybe I’ll take that as a complement.”  
  
"You just go right ahead and do that, mister smug pants-"  
  
"Oh, sexy talk. You are more than just a pretty face."  
  
"You-I-er-" He falters over words, not really sure how to complement this most complex of men. He looks over at Zaeed sitting there with eyebrows raised, mug in one hand, obviously waiting for him to spit out whatever it is that even he doesn't know what he was going to say. "Uh. Last night. This morning. It was-I mean-I had...fun?" His voice cracks-when was the last time his voice cracked like that?-makes it sound like a question.   
  
"You don't sound too positive about that."  
  
"That's not what I meant." He sets his mug down, looks him in the eye. "I had fun." But this time he says it with the straightest face he can manage. That doesn't sound right either.  
  
"Now you sound like you're trying to convince yourself."  
  
"Zaeed. This isn't-ugh. It's not coming out right-"  
  
"Came out alright last night. Several times, if I recall correctly. And this mor-"  
  
"Knock it off." He takes a deep breath. "Last night was very enjoyable for me. And this morning. Did-" he looks at the man closer. There's a smirk lurking there under the deadpanned face. "Did you…?"  
  
"Did I...?" Yeah, so he's not going to make things easier. He's going to make Garrus just come out and ask.  
  
"...have fun?..."  
  
Zaeed studies him for a long moment. He seems to be worrying something over in his mind, but then the smirk dies away and he gives him an intense look that makes Garrus feel like he's not wearing any clothes. "I did. I am."  
  
Garrus feels his mouth dry out, tries to swallow. That look makes him feel like the only thing in the 'verse. The only thing that's taken this man's interest. And he's targeting in on him with singular purpose. He becomes aware of the returning ache in his pelvic plates. He takes a deep breath. "Yeah. Good. Me too. I guess I already said that. You already-"  
  
Zaeed reaches out a hand, covers his hand resting on the table. "Garrus."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Calm the fuck down."  
  
"Okie." He focuses on the plate of cooling food in front of him. His stomach growls loud enough for Zaeed to hear.  
  
"Eat your breakfast."  
  
He takes a few bites while his mind whirls over the past hours, lands on one thing for him to remember vividly and it makes him laugh, just a little. The more he thinks it over, the more amusing he finds it until he looks up to find Zaeed watching him. "'Zaeed' is a really hard name to say when you're coming," he blurts.  
  
He coughs, gasping on the food in his throat, pounding his fist on his chest, laughing. "Ah, fucking hell. Next time maybe try 'hey you'."  
  
Garrus' mandibles flare. "As in 'Hey you, fuck me harder'?"  
  
"Has a certain anonymous ring to it."  
  
"'Hey you, I'm coming.'"  
  
Zaeed's eyes wrinkle at the corners as he smiles. "Yeah. Okay. Maybe not."  
  
Next time. Again. He heart beats a little faster with the prospect.  
  
Time to address the bright pink thresher maw in the room. "I really have to know. What the hell is up with the tattoo on your dick?"  
  
Zaeed smirks, taps his fork on his plate. "Not gonna let that go, are you."  
  
He shakes his head, crosses his arms, leans back in his chair. Lets his C-Sec training kick in, do what it needs to do to get this man to spill. Not that he thinks it's going to work, Zaeed being who he is. But it can't hurt. Alright, maybe it can, now that he really considers it. Still-  
  
“Can you keep a secret?”  
  
Um, okay. He thought he might have to wrestle it out of him. Why was that so easy?  
  
He's seen Humans make a particular gesture once in a while. Never really made much sense to him until he understood what a zipper was. But it seems apt to use now. "I'm a vault," he says, and pinches a finger and thumb together and moves it across his mouth. Like a zipper.  
  
The man does a double take, shakes his head, laughs. "Yeah, okay. It's just...of the many things in my past that I'm not proud, this is one that barely anyone knows about." He looks at him sideways, resumes tapping his fork on his plate. Garrus lets him be, stays silent. "Before Vido and I got together, years before, I was doing some freelance work, bounty hunting on my own. I was, what?, twenty-one? twenty-two? Not important. Old enough to know better. Young enough to be pretty fucking stupid. At any rate, ran into a dry spell. I dunno why. Sometimes shit like that happens. But it was months without a decent job. Barely getting by. So I'm in this shitty bar on Omega, Salarian comes up to me, asks me if I needed work. Never seen him before in my life, but figured maybe he knew who I was from somebody else. Said yeah, what's the job? He sits there, tells me bold as brass he's looking for new talent for his porn studio and would I consider it."  
  
Garrus sits up a bit straighter. This was getting interesting.  
  
"Long story short, 'cause I can see you're on pins and needles, I said why not? Credits are credits when you don't fucking have any. Although I did tell him there were things I wouldn't do, like I had some self-respect to hold onto at that point. Made a couple vids. Then the Salarian tells me if I would "tattoo my penile appendage", it would be a selling point and he could get me a few bigger deals. So that, Garrus, is why there are flames tattooed on my goddamn dick."  
  
He sits back, studies him over. "How many did you make?"  
  
"What? Vids? I dunno. Twenty, thirty maybe? Not many compared to some. Couple months after my excruciatingly painful dick tattooing experience, I caught a good bounty, put me back on the straight and narrow such as it was. Not a bad bloke, really. Salarians make surprisingly decent porn as long as they're not in it. Want more hot chocolate?"  
  
Just like that. I made some porn. Top off that drink for you? Garrus nods and Zaeed goes inside to fill up both their mugs. Garrus flips on his omnitool and does a fast extranet search. A mug is set down in front of him. "You're lying."  
  
"What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"Fornax. There's no 'Zaeed Massani' listed as an actor on anything."  
  
"You're not going to find any goddamn 'Zaeed Massani' either." He sits back and lights a cigar, his feet up on the little stool. He's looking just a bit too smug for Garrus' liking. Oh. So this is where he needs to get him to crack. That’s why it was so easy to get him to spill earlier. Because he used an assumed name. And by the look on his face, he thinks he’s going to be able to keep that secret all to himself. Foolish man.  
  
Time to get Spectre on his ass.  
  
"You know the perks of this job are quite nice," he says, typing away on his omni. "I'll have to show you the armory on my ship sometime. You'll cream those sexy jeans. More firepower than you'd know what to do with. Well, maybe not you. You make an impressive explosion when you set your mind to it." Zaeed grunts at the sideways complement, watching him carefully through the smoke of his cigar. "You also have managed to keep your name off the extranet in a way that makes me think Liara owes you a really big favor. Or maybe you're better with tech than I gave you credit for.” Garrus sits up a little, having found what he was searching for.  
  
"Ah, here we go." He takes a moment to search. "But there are files you can't touch, those of the Alliance military for example. You'd need a certain level of clearance to even be able to access-"  
  
There's a thump as Zaeed's boots hit the floor. "Garrus-"  
  
As innocent expressions go, it's probably not his best. But he's feeling a bit smug himself. "Should I stop? I'm looking at the file of one Private Zaeed Massani, ready to download this very handsome man's picture into a face recognition program."  
  
"What the-Are you fucking serious?"  
  
"It might take time, but I think I could narrow the time frame somewhat. So that might take the search down from millions to thousands of vids to search through-"  
  
"You're an asshole."  
  
He nods his agreement. "What did you call that? Sexy talk? It won't work. You'll tell me. Or I'll figure it out. Either way, at some point I will know."   
  
His fingers hover over the omni. He glances at the picture of Zaeed as an unscarred young man, not fresh faced, already looking like he's seen too much. But handsome and strong-willed, deep green eyes hard and hungry. He wonders about the 18-year old, what had happened to cause his military career to come up short at only-he looks over the dates-three months. There's no dishonorable discharge listed. Nothing to indicate what was the cause of his truncated tour. Maybe someday Zaeed will offer up the information. But that's for another day. For now-  
  
"You wouldn't."  
  
"You really think you can dangle that tidbit in front of me and not expect me to pull out all my Spectre tools to figure it out?" He doesn't shut the omnitool off, but he does lower it slightly. "You know you want to tell me." He smiles, lowers the omnitool even more. Zaeed is studying him right back, probably weighing his very limited options. He leans over the table, lowers his voice, flanges his vocals. "You can watch with me. Because you know I'm going to watch them all."  
  
The man laughs, relaxes his shoulders, takes a drag on his cigar. "Only agreeing because that goddamn C-Sec act is fucking sexy as hell."  
  
Garrus purrs. "I might still have my armor somewhere-"  
  
"Not necessary." He taps his temple with a finger. "I've got a mental image." He curls a couple fingers in his direction. "Give me your arm."  
  
"You gonna give it back?" But he extends his arm out awkwardly so that Zaeed can use the omni. Garrus checks the search term and chokes down a laugh. "RockIt? Your screen name was RockIt?"  
  
"Don't make me regret this decision."  
  
"Yeah, it might be too late for that." He flips through the list of available vids. Well, if nothing else the name provided some pretty amusing titles: _RockIt All Night Long; RockIt's Take Off; Between RockIt and a Hard Place; RockIt Goes Down in Flames_. So hard to choose. He picks one at random.  
  
“Not that one.” Zaeed is hovering over his shoulder, makes him jump a little. That sneaking up thing again. How does he do that?  
  
“You’re going to say that to all of them.”  
  
“Probably. And don’t you have a job to get to?”  
  
“Don’t you have a bounty to go find? Besides, this is more important.” He continues to scroll down the list.  
  
“Watching old porn is more important than fetching and carrying for the Council?”  
  
He turns his head, looks at Zaeed as he leans over him. The man looks back and Garrus’ heart does that flippy thing it’s been doing since he stood outside Zaeed’s door yesterday. “Not just any porn.” Heartbeats of time pass, maybe an entire day. He can’t say for certain. He’s pretty sure it’s not good, losing track of whatever else there is in the universe besides those mismatched eyes and the heat that emanates from them. The heat that seems to go directly from his head to his loins and builds up like someone is banking a fire there. It feels a little bit like it’s out of his control. He takes a deep breath. “And it’s research.”  
  
Zaeed blinks, laughs. “Research. Right.” He looks back at the screen, reaches out and selects one. “Here. That one almost has plot if you squint at it from the right direction.”  
  
Garrus checks the title. _Whistle for a Missile._


	6. Subject continues to exhibit non-stereotypical behavior; further study necessary

They end up back on the bed with the vid up on the screen on the wall. He tries to concentrate on the vid, which isn't as bad as some porn he's seen, but not out to win any awards either. He's struck with how young Zaeed is: thinner than he is now, less muscular, his accent thicker. But still familiar, the building blocks of the man he's to become lurking there under the surface. He looks over at Zaeed, laid out on the bed, ankles crossed, hands up behind his head propped on a pillow.  
  
"What?"  
  
He studies him, takes a good long look down and up again. "You were kind of a cute little bastard."  
  
And doesn't that just make him turn an interesting shade of red. "Fuck off."  
  
Garrus laughs and returns his attention to the much-moaning threesome on the screen. He tips his head, trying to figure out just exactly where things are.  
  
"What're you trying to do? Find the plot?"  
  
 "Just wondering. Are you still that flexible?"  
  
He snorts. "No."  
  
"Hm. Too bad. 'Cause I could-Oh." He stops, frozen. Watches carefully for several minutes. "Sometime, can we do that? Without the Asari?"  
  
The man is silent for a moment, finally says in a rough voice, "Yeah. We can do that."  
  
He realizes that at some point he's reached over and laid a hand on Zaeed's hip, moving his fingers in small strokes over the fabric of his jeans. He looks over, sees Zaeed watching the hand, stills his fingers. Those eyes, on him again, making him feel undressed and more than that, opened up and on display for this man to get a really good look at.  
  
"Don't stop on my account," he says.  
  
The man has his own gravitational force, a pull that Garrus can't, doesn't want to resist. He shifts down slightly, nudges a bit closer, the bass music on the screen pulsing with the beat of his heart. Instead of continuing the movements of his fingers, he slides them into the front pocket of his jeans. They're deep pockets and his talons hit the bottom, hand buried to the wrist. He hasn't taken his eyes off Zaeed's, sees his nostrils flare briefly. He feels a shift in the jeans near his wrist, a subtile stretching of cloth. Zaeed's eyes flick down to his mouth, back up slowly tracing over Garrus' features.  
  
Garrus twitches his mandibles, then returns to watching the vid, the pads of his fingers making miniscule movements through the thinner fabric of the pocket against the very top of Zaeed's thigh, worrying at a fold of underwear he can feel beneath. He forces himself to breathe, halfway watching the action, aware of the warmth of the body under his hand, the deepened rising and falling of Zaeed's chest as he breathes. And again the small movement at his wrist, now a nudging of flesh. The answer in his own body is telling: an ache in his pelvic plates as they loosen, the hardening of his own cock, and when did it get warmer in the room?  
  
He resists the urge to look back at Zaeed. The man seems frozen in place as if he's testing his own will to remain still. But there's an anticipation in the muscles, ready to strike when given the word. The tension in the air is tangible. He could reach out and run his fingers through it.  
  
Zaeed-on-the-screen, RockIt, moans and swears and pushes back against the man entering him while the Asari takes his inked cock all the way into her mouth until her nose is pressed against his stomach. She visibly swallows and RockIt's hips jerk, pumping over her full lips. RockIt turns, draws the man behind him into a kiss, all tongue and teeth pulling on lips. The Asari moans, looks up, watching the two men kiss. RockIt's hand strokes her crest, his touch gentle.  
  
"What were you feeling," Garrus asks. "Do you remember?" The nudge on his wrist is now damp, pre-cum leaking through the fabric. He looks over and Zaeed's eyes are hot on his. He moves finally, uncrosses his ankles, slides a foot up towards his behind, knee in an arch.  
  
"Yeah," his voice breaks, "I remember."  
  
"Tell me," Garrus whispers. It shouldn't be this easy, he thinks, to ask him such an intimate question. It should be awkward and difficult. But instead it feels familiar. Like they've been doing this (whatever this might be) for years already.  
  
When did Zaeed's hand cover his own through the fabric of his jeans? He presses down, rubs over Garrus' knuckles. "She, uh, what was her goddamn name? Can't remember," his eyes are drowsy, flicking back and forth between the screen and Garrus, "She swallowed and her tongue hit me just under...fuck," he breathes deeply, presses harder on Garrus' hand. "Could have shot it right then." He nods toward the vid, his voice rough and low. "But Carl-why can I remember his fucking name and not hers?-anyway he couldn't hit a prostate if it smacked him over the goddamn head. And he was a fucking idiot. So that saved it. Plus I was as high as goddamn Luna. Made it harder to get off."  
  
It hits him then. What he's seeing up on the screen, what this man is telling him. The artifice. The non-reality. The thrill of it is gone in a rush, leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He realizes he hadn't thought this through all the way. Seeing Zaeed, young and hungry and desperate to survive, it squeezes at his gizzard in a way he doesn't think he wants to explore. It's not prudishness, or being turned off about the Asari. It strikes something at his core, something to do with the man next to him. Something protective in him wants to cover Zaeed up with a blanket and hide under it with him, which is strange. The man can take care of himself. He has done for longer than Garrus has been alive. The last thing he needs is someone to look after him.  
  
Zaeed is sitting up next to him, his hand on his knee. "What the hell just happened? Where'd you go?" Garrus untwists his hand, removes it from his pocket.  
  
He's had enough. The forced moans of the Asari especially. But also the music, the bodies slapping together. He's not averse to watching porn, and the idea of watching it with Zaeed is more than a little exciting. But he's going to leave RockIt alone from now on. He reaches behind him and flips the vid screen off, throwing the room into deafening silence.  
  
"Garrus?"  
  
Zaeed's face is a mixture of confusion and concern, deep lines etched between his eyebrows. With the pad of his finger, he traces the curve of Zaeed's scar, starting at the little curl by his nose, down to the thick scar tissue below his cheekbone, back up around his eye. He feels the roughened skin, the flesh yielding down to bone, learns it with his touch. The man lets him, watching carefully, breath shallow and controlled. When he's done, he lets his hand fall. "I think I prefer the original," he says.  
  
Emotion doesn't want to settle on Zaeed's face. Surprise. Confusion. Disbelief. Doubt. Surprise seems to win out eventually, after several hard swallows that cause his adam's apple to bob. He blinks, eyelashes fluttering, the lines of his face open and defenceless and he's suddenly years younger. Garrus’ insides break apart. He wraps his arms around him, humming into his neck.  
  
“What the hell are you doing.” The words are spoken so quietly, he’s not sure if they’re meant for him or if Zaeed is talking to himself. He pretends they’re for him.  
  
He leans back on the pillows, bringing Zaeed with him. “Well, you said to make it up to you later. So my intention is to reduce you to a boneless mess.” He speaks against the soft skin, laps his tongue up from the base of his neck. “Unless you object.”  
  
A hand on the back of his head, a knee thrown over his leg so that Garrus could feel his bulge against his hip. “Stick your hand back in my goddamn pocket, I’ll show you how much I object.”  
  
He rolls, traps Zaeed under him. He breathes in his scent, feels the increasing pulse at his throat just under his mouth. Zaeed’s foot hooks over his leg, rubs up over his spur. He sinks down between the man’s legs and it feels like he was made to be there. He raises himself up on his forearms, looks down at the ruthless mercenary willingly pinned beneath him. An electric shock runs down his spine and he rubs over Zaeed’s cock in a rocking wave that creates delicious friction on his plates. The man’s eyes dilate, mismatched irises nearly disappearing. Zaeed groans, low and rough, so Garrus repeats the motion, grinding a little harder through their clothes.  
  
“Fuck,” Zaeed breathes. His hands are searching beneath Garrus’ tunic, seeking and finding a way in under his trousers to grab his ass. He feels the hands clasp, fingers squeezing the next time he rolls against him. It’s pleasure and agony and anticipation all rolled up in one aching need. His plates have parted and now when he presses up he can feel Zaeed’s hardness along his open slit, just bumping the tip of his own cock.  
  
"Oh. Spirits."  
  
“Yeah, Garrus.” His other foot now rests just above his other spur and he thrills at the thought of Zaeed Massani latched onto him, not letting go. It's just about the most sexy thing he can think of. Just about.  
  
There’s less fumbling this time, more confidence in their mutual attraction and a shared unspoken desire to go slow. He takes long moments to run his hands up Zaeed’s chest, over the muscles as he strips his shirt off him. He removes his own tunic in a jerk, pins the man’s bent arms over his head, kisses him. Tastes bitter coffee and smokey cigar on his breath. He feels the rise and fall of the chest beneath him, his own heart speeding as the soft skin rubs his harder plates. His tongue slides over the man’s, warm and wet. Smooth compared to his own rougher tongue. He prolongs the kiss, hands gliding over Zaeed’s arms up to his hands. He intertwines his fingers with Zaeed’s.  
  
It’s an intimate gesture that startles him. He almost pulls away, but after a heartbeat’s pause Zaeed returns the pressure and their hands are clasped together. He breaks the kiss, moves his mouth over the man’s jaw, breathing deeply the raw Human scent of desire. A trill from his subharmonics answers, reassurance that his needs won’t go unfulfilled. Zaeed breathes a moaning sigh, then a groan when Garrus nibbles gently with his mouth plates at the curve of his neck. He likes to hear that sound, wants to hear it again. He slowly moves his hips, increasing the pressure incrementally until his eyes nearly roll back in his head from the sensation.  
  
Zaeed's groan is a rumble or pleasure deep in his throat. “Goddamn. Fuck me already.”  
  
“Boneless mess, remember?” He pushes up, releasing his hands. Strokes over a pec, down to the nipple, rolling it lightly between thumb and finger. The nipple is pushed up into his hand and he looks up to see Zaeed watching him. “You like that?” The man blinks slowly, doesn’t answer. Garrus twists the nub, feels it stiffen to a hard peek and Zaeed’s eyes close, head back as he arches his chest further. Garrus smiles, mandibles twitching. “You like that.” His own excitement increases from learning this one little thing that pleases Zaeed. He wants to find more.  
  
Time seems to pass in a blur of skin and mouth and fingers digging into flesh, smoothing the pads of his fingers over muscle. He lets himself get caught up in everything this man is offering, the pleasure of two bodies learning each other, the anticipation of finding a new spot to thrill. He loses himself, shuts off thoughts of the outside world. It's just Zaeed and himself and whatever they feel like giving to the other.  
  
He doesn’t remember how but the rest of their clothes are off and Zaeed is between his legs, saying something about both of them being goddamn boneless messes. And he's doing a pretty good job of it, his hot mouth is on him and he's so very nearly there and then- _oh Spirits! He knows about that!_ -Zaeed's squeezing the tip of a finger up just inside Garrus’ penile shaft to stimulate the base of his cock. There is no way in hell he can stop the sudden spurt of cum that hits the back of Zaeed’s throat as he cries out. Zaeed swallows and grins up at him looking shamelessly pleased with himself. And more than just a little wicked. And his finger is still up his shaft. Oh...  
  
"Spirits, that feels...um...good..." He squirms, his cock quickly hardening again as Zaeed's finger works at the base.  
  
"Just good?"  
  
"Yeah, um. Hunh. Keep going."  
  
He's rewarded with another grin and a body that moves up over him, that he pulls down on him, that he kisses slowly, still halfway in the clouds from his orgasm. He tastes himself on Zaeed's tongue. "What do I taste like to you?" He asks into his ear.  
  
"Hn, kinda sweet. Tangy," Zaeed is peppering his neck with small kisses, moving down inside his carapace. "Spice." His slips his finger out with the help of Garrus' own lubrication, pumps him several times, nibbles his blunt teeth at the hide of his neck. "Salty."  
  
He rolls so Zaeed is under him again. "So, tastes okay?" He licks his way down his throat, under his chin over the jut of his adam's apple to the small dip at the base of his neck.  
  
"Yeah," he laughs. "Tastes fine."  
  
"I always wondered," He works his way across his shoulder, lipping softly at skin, "If it was different for other species."  
  
Zaeed responds by sliding the bottom of his foot up his leg.  
  
He moves his hips over slightly, rubs their two hard cock together, slick with lubrication and precum. "I want to be in you," he says, mouthing over the tattoo on his shoulder. "Can I be in you?"  
  
Zaeed’s hands are tracing up his back, finding sensitive hide, the ridges of his carapace, down to tease at his waist. "Garrus." He looks at him, sees the earnestness in Zaeed's face. "Any goddamn thing you want," he whispers.   
  
_____  
  
The urge to bite down takes him by surprise. _Mine_. Maybe because he's behind Zaeed, dominating over his body, fists on the bed, arms locked straight to prop him up. Maybe because he's gone out of his way to delay their release, building up, retreating, building up again. Taking time to learn the soft flesh under his hands. Again, he pushes aside any other reason why. It's too soon for any of that. Regardless, he presses his mouth plates against the man's back, along the spine, keens long and low in his subvocals as the climax builds and this time he's not going to stop it. He hears Zaeed swear, his words of encouragement. His "Yes. Garrus. Fuck-" The thrust of his hips jerking out his pleasure, seed spilling onto the sheets, his cry echoing off the walls. At that he forces himself to clamp his mouth shut, mandibles tight on his jaw, hums desperately against the sweat-soaked skin.  
  
He's mindless when he comes, a wave of pleasure enveloping him, drowning him. In amidst the bliss he notices that his toe claws sink into the mattress and that's probably a bad thing that he can't be bothered to think about right now. Because he's busy, thank you very much. Busy getting Zaeed off. Busy enjoying the endorphins flooding through his system. Busy trying not to flop down on the man under him with all his weight so as not to crush him. Busy busy busy.  
  
Things become difficult when he tries to move though. His claw is stuck on something.  
  
“Christ, you’re heavy.” Zaeed’s voice is muffled in a pillow.  
  
He tugs and nothing happens. “Um. Hang on a sec. I can’t-hm.” He props himself up on his hands and knees to look behind him. “Oh. Shit.”  
  
The claws of his right foot are embedded in Zaeed’s mattress. Bits of fluff and foam protrude through the sheets, which he’s shredded further, and half his foot has been swallowed up inside the bed. “‘Oh, shit’ what?”  
  
It hurts the next time he tries to pull. Not good. He looks down at Zaeed, hair messed, a hairline scratch just visible down his jaw from one of Garrus’ teeth. He looks like he just had really good sex. And now Garrus is going to ruin that look. “Apparently, I owe you a new bed.”  
  
Zaeed twists to the side to see for himself. Garrus watches that ‘I just had really good sex’ look fade. The scowl is back. “You shredded my sheets _and_ the bed?”  
  
“It appears that way.”  
  
“And now you’re stuck.”  
  
“I-uh. Yeah?”  
  
He expects an outburst, a tirade, a telling off. He's pretty certain that's what he'd do if someone had destroyed his mattress. So when Zaeed laughs, well, he doesn't trust it to take a bad turn. Perplexed, he watches and waits, uncomfortable and now he really does feel awkward. But the man just keeps laughing like he's told him the greatest joke ever. Even as he crawls out from under Garrus, he continues to find the whole thing highly amusing, chuckling in bursts that erupt from his chest.  
  
"Shit, Garrus. You're really dug in there." He can feel Zaeed's fingers on the bottom of his foot. He applies some pressure, there's a pop as something releases and his claw is free.  
  
Garrus rights himself into a more dignified sitting position, busies his hands by tying off the condom. "I'm just going to go hide somewhere for about five hundred years."  
  
"Oh, hell no. That's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen. You gonna do that every time?"  
  
He looks at him, baffled. "I-er-"  
  
Zaeed laughs, taps him affectionately on the mandible. "Thirsty?"  
  
Garrus watches Zaeed's naked backside disappear around the corner to the kitchen. Dimples, he reminds himself. "Yeah. Thanks." He sighs and looks over at the hole he made, sticks a hand down to feel around and finds wire coils which is apparently what he got stuck on. "There are better ways to design a bed, you know."  
  
Zaeed is standing in front of him with a glass of water. "Bed's fault. Got it." He's still laughing quietly. "Scoot over."  
  
He takes the glass and drinks it down in a long swallow. "Stop being so nice about it. It's very confusing."  
  
"Nice? Hell. It's fucking hilarious. And sexy. Would you scoot your boney Turian ass over?  
  
He fidgets with the glass, rolling its smooth surface over in the hands. "I shouldn't have made you tell me."  
  
"Tell you what?" Zaeed takes the glass and sets it aside, then pushes at Garrus until he moves over to the center of the bed.  
  
He sits forward, arms over bent knees. "Your porn name."  
  
He makes a disgusted sound. "Garrus, you daft ass. If I didn't want you to know any of that, I wouldn't have told you about it in the first place. I could have just made some shit up. Didn't expect you'd go all Spectre on me." He grunts, avoiding the mess on the sheets and then his feet hit the hole in the bed. "Move over, goddamnit."  
  
The bed dips as he moves over further. "You were awfully cagey about it."  
  
"Try keeping a secret for that long and see how you feel when you finally tell someone." Zaeed shifts the pillows around behind his head. His tone turns teasing, "Then you went all Spectrey. How could I resist?" He lays back with a sigh, hands folded over his belly.  
  
It feels good to stretch out beside him. He lays on his side, props his head up on a hand to look at Zaeed. "Spectrey?" He hums in his subvocals, let's his voice drop lower with innuendo. "Do we need to talk about this? Because I seem to recall something about my having been C-Sec getting you all excited too."  
  
Drowsy eyes look him over. "Maybe I just appreciate a badass."  
  
"Badass in uniform?"  
  
"That too."  
  
"Hm."  
  
Zaeed closes his eyes, a grin on his face. "Or maybe it's just you." From his viewpoint, he can barely see the scarring on the other side of his face. He likes how the small smile makes him look. Younger, less like he's seen too much, more like he's enjoying the company.  
  
"You're laying the compliments on pretty thick."  
  
"You promised me a tour of the armory on your ship. Never hurts to butter you up so you don't think twice about it."  
  
"Ah. I should have known. This is all a ruse to have a look at my new sniper rifle."  
  
The man rolls on his side, mimics him with his head up on his hand. He's close, nearly touching. Garrus can feel his warmth emanating like a field around him. "Damn. Another secret out," he deadpans. "Keep it up and the thrill will be gone by this afternoon."  
  
Garrus' mandibles spread in an easy grin. "Oh, I hardly doubt that." He pulls the man closer, pleased when a soft, muscled Human leg slides in between his own. "Somehow I have the feeling the thrill has a hard time disappearing when you're around."  
  
"Now who's laying on the goddamn complements?" A hand slides down his side, over the sharp curve of his waist to rest at his hip. Zaeed's voice is sleepy. He pulls a pillow closer, tucks it under his head.  
  
"If you like that, I've got lots more backhanded compliments where that came from." His fingers search out and find one of the dimples that rest over Zaeed's behind. Like a magnet, the pad of his finger comes to rest in the small dip.  
  
"Hn." His breathing evens out, deepens. Then he chuckles and mutters, "Goddamn claw stuck in the bed."  
  
"Shut up, you."  
  
Garrus watches him, eyes closed, mouth parted slightly as the grin fades and he drifts off to sleep. He feels his own eyes droop.  
  
It's the middle of the morning in Nos Astra. He should be heading back to work, but he'll think about that later. He'll also think about another shower, and how to get a new mattress delivered, replacing the sheets he’s already ordered with something a bit more Turian grade, and when he can see Zaeed again. For now, he's content to take a very unusual morning nap, to feel the rise and fall of Zaeed's chest as he sighs in his sleep.  
  
His last thought as he draws nearer to sleep is to wonder over the strange turn his life has taken recently. Zaeed Massani. Of all the souls in the galaxy-a merc, a bounty hunter, a killer. A cuddler, a flirt, a tease. A porn star for goodness sake. He’s pretty certain that’s not all of it either, that there’s more to this man than he’d be able to learn in a lifetime. And maybe he might like to take that challenge on.  
  
Zaeed had it right. This is madness indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos and fabulous comments! You are all amazing! Mwah!


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